Thank you all so much for your kind words about my Avon Walk. Again, it feels amazing to know that all of you are behind me! It helps make the soreness all worth it. Although, honestly, I’m a whole lot less sore than I thought I’d be. I think that hot tub dip on Saturday night really made the difference. That and the insane amount of sleep I’ve gotten over the past two nights. 8:30pm bedtime, for the win!
Moving on. Let’s talk popsicles! Fudgesicles, to be exact.
Fudgesicles and I have a tight relationship. Like a lot of the food on this here blog, fudgesicles are part of a very strong memory from my childhood. Whenever I think of fudgesicles, I think of one thing—camping. As a kid, I went camping all the time with my parents (in a tent) and my grandparents (in an RV). Since I grew up in the country, I didn’t have a lot of places to ride my bike, but whenever we’d go camping, I’d take my bike and ride around for hours and hours on the quiet, paved streets and paths in the state parks and campgrounds we frequented. It was the kind of freedom that I’m sure kids in the suburbs experience all the time, but I never had (we had to drive to go trick-or-treating for heaven’s sake). It felt so nice to coast down the smooth, tree-lined hills on my little-used bike.
There was one particular state park that we visited a lot throughout my childhood, and I very clearly remember riding my bike by myself down to the camp store by the lake every day to buy a single fudgesicle. It was independence at it’s finest. I’d coast around with one hand on the handlebars and one hand holding my fudgesicle. I thought I was so grown up. To me, fudgesicles are a symbol of my first real taste of independence.
This recipe is so ridiculously simple, I feel a little guilty posting it. But it’s also so ridiculously good, that I would have felt even guiltier not posting it. I had to share this easy, yummy awesomeness with you. I plan on making these all summer long.